Smut & Filth. Chapter eighteen.

"Breath Taking".

She knelt by his side having placed the drinks on the little table that served as a bedside cabinet and kissed the tattoo on his shoulder before straddling him.

The voices of the locals living out their lives as they passed beneath the open window drifted through the shutters. Their exotic accents, along with laughter, birdsong, the sound of the occasional car and the ting-ting of the little bell as customers visited the boulangerie provided the lovers with a surprisingly romantic soundtrack.

She placed her palms on his shoulders and he moaned. Letting her arms take her weight she felt the give as his muscles yielded to her touch and he made deep sounds that stirred the butterfly house that had once been her stomach.

She used her thumbs to work at the little knots along either side of his spine, working them upwards and outwards. She rolled her knuckles on the larger, tighter knots that hid behind his shoulder blades then, as she leaned forward to kiss his neck, she felt her own wetness brush against him.

She continued to kiss his neck as she removed her shirt then trailed her lace clad breasts down his back. He smiled and relaxed further into the mattress as she reached behind herself and unfastened the clasp of her bra, letting it slip from her shoulders in time for the upward stroke.

“Don’t move.” She whispered as she neared his ear.

She climbed off the bed to remove the rest of her clothing without taking her eyes off him. Briefly she again straddled him while she reached beneath and unfastened his trousers then, standing at the base of the bed, she pulled them off.

Biting her lip she smiled as she gazed at his nakedness, the gentle curve of his back, the bruising she’d caused, his long, thick legs. She walked slowly around the bed until she was standing by his head.

He opened his eyes as her shadow fell across his face and he smiled.

“You are beautiful.” He murmured.

“Roll over.”

She didn’t ask.

He didn’t argue.

She climbed back onto the bed, again straddling him though this time it was his face beneath her wetness. Hovering above him, a few inches from his parted lips, she watched him swallow hard.

She placed one palm against the wall, leaning forward slightly, and let her other hand meander its way down her body, rubbing herself as he watched.

“Dirty girl.” He whispered, his mouth dry. She took her fingers and pushed them into his dry mouth and he moaned, sucking on them eagerly.

“Dirty? I’m not dirty,” She smiled, “I’m fucking filthy!”

She lowered herself onto his face as she withdrew her now wet fingers, feeling him respond immediately. He opened his mouth wide and forced his tongue deep inside her and she gasped.

The fingers that had been in his mouth returned to her sweet, wet centre and she sought her swollen bud with her fingertips. Having found her goal she let her head fall back and her weight bear down on his hungry mouth, using her other hand to stroke her own breasts and to toy with each nipple in turn. Clenching her jaw, determined to enjoy this sensation as long as she could before yielding to the inevitable, a moan escaped her.

She glanced over her shoulder at his swollen length and saw he was playing with himself. She tried to watch, but the rhythmic thrusting of his face against her made it difficult.

She stood up, her feet either side of his shoulders, rested a hand against the wall once again and masturbated furiously, now eager to welcome that which she had been so keen to delay for as long as possible just moments ago.

He wriggled into a sitting position, his fist still slowly pumping at his hard shaft, and she felt his warm breath on the back of her hand as it worked. He kissed her knuckles, his eyes turned up toward her so he could admire her flat tummy and round breasts. She watched him carefully, his own masturbation hidden from her view, and waited until she was cumming before giving him that which he so plainly desired.

The hand that she’d been teasing herself with was suddenly on the back of his head and she thrust herself at his face as she pulled his face against wetness.

His fist began working harder as he began to suck her dry. Her juices soaked him, running down his chin and trickling down his throat as he gulped. He couldn’t breathe.

Neither he nor she cared.

Once her orgasm had begun to subside she lowered herself slowly, allowing him to pay some much needed attention to her breasts as they passed his face. She felt the tip of his cock against her, felt him rubbing it all over her wetness, and she paused, to allow him to stimulate her for a moment before taking over.

She rubbed the end of his length along the length of her wet crease, briefly circling her centre, and made him as wet as she was before pushing him behind her. His eyes widened.

“Oh my,” He gasped, “It’s not my birthday, is it?”

“No,” She smiled at him, kissing his mouth gently and nibbling his bottom lip as she placed her forehead against his and stared into his eyes with an intensity that made his cock throb, “But I really want my beautiful present.”